


In the Darkness and the Depth

by Telaryn



Category: Daredevil (TV), Leverage
Genre: Banter, Boys Kissing, Crime Fighting, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Explicit Language, Foreplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Eliot ran across the Devil of Hell's Kitchen was chance.  The second time was luck.  The third time, and even Matt suspected they might be moving towards something more...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Darkness and the Depth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/gifts).



> Another pairing that I'm frankly stunned hasn't been written more. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it Z!
> 
> Thank you for playing with us again!

“You’re bleeding,” Eliot managed as his back impacted the damp brick wall. Gloved hands were already at his waist, fumbling open his belt.

“So are you,” his assailant growled, his breath hot on Eliot’s neck. “You want me to stop?” He bit hard into the curve of muscle at the base of Eliot’s neck, drawing a moan from the other man’s throat.

Eliot pulled Matt in close, his vision briefly whiting out as he ground their hips together and friction against his still trapped erection flooded his body with endorphins. “Stop and I swear to God I’ll kill you.” He rocked his hips forward again, but Matt managed to regain enough control to push him back. One tug to free the button at his waist, and then the hiss of his zipper being pulled down echoed his own inner cry of relief.

“Want to turn you around and fuck you up against this wall,” Matt rumbled, deftly freeing Eliot’s aching cock from its prison and stroking it full length. The feel of leather and fabric against the too-sensitive skin was so exquisite Eliot had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from drawing attention. “Blowjob’s not gonna cut it for much longer,” Matt finished, setting up a slow, steady rhythm on his shaft.

“Did you bring anything?” Eliot gasped, hands roaming over the other man’s body, trying to get at any inch of bare skin he could find. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen might not wear armor, but his close-fitting black shirt was as frustrating as Kevlar in a situation like this. “Fuck…”

“That’s the idea,” Matt grinned, nipping sharply at the base of his throat. “And no, I didn’t bring anything. I didn’t know you’d even be in the state, much less in the mood to party.”

More fumbling then; Eliot managed to get his hands on Matt’s waistband long enough to jerk his pants down an inch or so – although the other man stopped him before he could get too far. “Come back to my place.” Eliot couldn’t see Matt’s eyes through his full facemask, but he could feel Murdock looking at him with an intensity that made him shiver.

“Stupid,” he managed, trying to breathe through how badly he needed to come. Matt had slowed down his strokes for the moment, but Eliot was already too far gone to stop – much less to have the kind of reasonable, rational conversation Matt’s invitation demanded. “You don’t even know me…”

“You’ve saved my life twice in the last six months,” Matt countered. “You’ve had my back every time we’ve fought together, and never once questioned whether I was in the right.” He kissed a particularly sensitive spot beneath Eliot’s jawline, grinning as he felt Eliot’s entire body go soft for a moment in reaction.

_Well, not his entire body…_

“Matt, swear to God, I don’t think I’m going to last another step,” Eliot said finally. “Definitely not long enough to get to your place, wherever it is.”

Lips pressed roughly against his, Matt’s tongue forcing its way into Eliot’s mouth to steal his breath and most of what was left of his good sense. “When beg me so pretty, how can I refuse you anything?”

Any other night Eliot would have protested the accusation that he had begged Matt Murdock for anything, but all he did now was let the wall at his back support him while the Devil went smoothly to his knees in the damp, dark alley and took him in a single, practiced swallow.  
********************************  
It was potentially one of the dumbest moves he’d made in recent memory, but as he followed Eliot back to the other man’s car, Matt kept the worst of his doubts at bay by reminding himself that most of what he spent his down time doing these days qualified as _dumb_ , _stupid_ , or any variation on suicidal you cared to come up with.

And it had been his heart’s truth speaking when he told Eliot that blowjobs swapped in the alleys of Hell’s Kitchen really weren’t enough. Not anymore. Not when Matt spent most nights he wasn’t too battered or bleeding falling asleep to thoughts of fucking the skilled fighter who’d saved him from spilling his intestines all over 9th Avenue six months earlier.

Eliot had been with friends then – Parker and Hardison were the names they’d given Matt – and he had to assume when Eliot wasn’t running into him on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen he went back to a life with them. The two weeks he’d spent convalescing in their company Matt’s own senses had been overwhelmed with all the clues he’d come to associate with strong emotional and physical bonds. There was real love between the three of them, amidst all the light-hearted bickering and banter, stronger than Matt could remember feeling more than a handful of times in his life. It was part of the reason why he hadn’t protested too much when they’d insisted he not try to return home on his own. Those sorts of bonds bred a feeling of safety Matt had been deeply missing in his own life.

“Take the next right,” he said absently, as the sounds distinct to his immediate neighborhood helped orient him. “Park anywhere you can find on the right side of the road.”

Reaching up, he pulled off his mask – ruffling his sweat-soaked curls with one hand. “I…ah…don’t have my cane,” he said hesitantly as Eliot’s Charger pulled to the right and slowed to a stop. “Can I take your arm until we’re inside?”

Matt heard the small hesitation in Eliot’s otherwise regular breathing, but to his surprise the other man didn’t ask the obvious question. It was going to cause enough of a stir with some of his nosier neighbors, him coming home near dawn with a man who wasn’t Foggy; Matt didn’t want to have to try and explain coming in the front door of his own building with no visible assistance whatsoever.

Eliot was in place by the time Matt freed himself from the car. His touch on Matt’s arm was light and steady, allowing Matt to get his bearings before taking the proffered support. “Across the street,” he said, nodding in the direction of his building. “I’m on the fourth floor.”

“Please tell me there’s an elevator,” Eliot moaned as they started off. “I’m too old to be taking four flights after the night we’ve had already.”

“You’ve stopped bleeding,” Matt offered by way of an admittedly weak bit of optimism. “I would have sworn you were going to need stitches.”

He felt Eliot shiver with surprise. “You know how weird that is, right?”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” Matt retorted, reaching for his key as they got to the top of the stairs and fumbling it into the lock. “Besides – it’s hardly a conversation I get to have with everyone.”

“Good point,” Eliot agreed. Matt felt him pause and lean to check something. He wasn’t surprised when Eliot said, “That cut on your throat’s closed already too.”

“Figured it had.” Matt guided Eliot over to the elevator and pressed the call button. “I don’t willingly let people get that close to my throat.”

He supposed it could have been taken as an invitation. Regardless of how he’d intended it, Matt was caught entirely off-guard as Eliot hustled him into the now-open elevator – pushing him firmly against the opposite wall and pressing full length into him as the door slid closed. “How ‘bout unwillingly?” Eliot breathed, gently setting his teeth into the back of Matt’s neck – directly over the spine – and biting down.

Matt’s answering cry was soft and full of all the pleasure suddenly flooding his battered body. He’d never considered submission for himself before, being too caught up with the fantasy of having control over somebody as powerful as Eliot, but as he felt all the tension leave his body in a rush all he could manage was a broken, “Fourth floor…” as Eliot’s free hand slid down his hip and across to cup the aching bulge of his cock.  
******************************************  
The play of mouth and hands had only grown more intense on the short walk from the elevator to Matt’s apartment door, and unless Eliot had completely misread the situation his bid to take control of things had been accepted in spades by Matt.

They did separate long enough to stumble inside the apartment, and for Matt to secure the door against unexpected interruptions. “Do you want more light?” he asked, hanging the keys carefully on a hook next to the door and above a switch.

Eliot shook his head, immediately following it up with an “I’m fine,” before he had to own up to his unconscious slip. Large windows let in more than enough light from the city to allow him to see, and he didn’t want Matt to have to accommodate him anymore than he was by virtue of Eliot just being here.

Matt was nodding as he stepped further into the apartment. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked – the last word muffled briefly as he pulled off his skin-tight black shirt and threw it aside.

His upper body was pale, muscled and perfect in the moonlight, even peppered as it was with different colored bruises and traced with scars of different ages. For a moment Eliot literally forgot how to breathe. “No…” he managed finally. “No drink. I, um, would like to see you without the rest of your clothes though.”

A small smile ghosted across Murdock’s lips, then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his black fighting pants and skinned everything over his hips and down his thighs. Pausing only to toe out of his shoes, he let the rest of it fall to the floor before stepping free.

Unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound hopelessly stupid or maudlin, Eliot instead closed the distance that separated them and kissed Matt as deeply and thoroughly as he could. “How long do we have?” he asked when they finally came up for air – his mind full of all the things he wanted to do in whatever time Matt would allow him.

“A few hours,” Matt admitted, his expression betraying how much he enjoyed the feel of Eliot’s hands mapping his bare skin. “If I’m not in the office by nine, my partner gets worried.” He inhaled sharply as Eliot traced a particularly sensitive nerve cluster at the base of his spine. “And…nosy.”

“Got a few of those myself,” Eliot admitted, pulling Matt into an embrace and kissing him again. “Nosy partners, that is.

Matt twined his fingers in the longer strands of hair at the base of Eliot’s skull as they continued kissing, tugging experimentally until he was rewarded with the low growl he’d hoped for. “Of course if you wanted to stay…” he offered tentatively, “…I could cut out early and we could pick up wherever we have to leave off.”

Eliot didn’t need Matt’s heightened senses to tell how nervous the other man was about making the offer, but since his own instincts weren’t offering up reasons why he should refuse…

“Where’s your bed?”


End file.
